


the after hours

by Lua



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Stiles-centric, Unbeta'd, all canon relationships happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/pseuds/Lua
Summary: As long as things stayed mostly theoretical, Stiles had no problems with sex.





	the after hours

Just because Stiles made sexual comments and joked about it, it didn’t mean he wanted to actually have sex. Sex didn’t scare him. Sex didn’t disgust him. It didn’t cause any big dramatic effect.

That was kinda the point.

Sex didn’t do anything for him.

At first, Stiles didn’t realize it. Some people just blew their experiences right out of the roof anyway and why would sex be any different? So what if his own orgasms weren’t mind blowing? Maybe it was just that when you were done, you ended up lying there just tired and, if you were lucky, kinda tingly in the extremities, but not really amazed and contemplating the beauty of the universe because your dick was that magical, bro. Maybe people never truly appreciated eating a burger when you had a craving after a thirty-four hour marathon to get this one dungeon over with, but Stiles wasn’t openly questioning people’s lives because he wasn’t raised in a cave and he could actually read tone even if sometimes he didn’t; he had manners despite sometimes forgetting it. Sex turned out to be…banal.

It left him tired and a bit unsatisfied, but also curious to know if what was missing was a second person in the scene. Maybe that other participant made a hella lot difference and Stiles just couldn’t compare, using his own hand, no matter how much he tried and how much effort and good intentions he put in the action. It was going to be boring and, to be honest, ended up leaving him a little aching.

He figured teenagers lied all the time anyway, so what. It was no big deal that he joined in with his peers, lie away, lie away. It was the best thing he ever did lying down which was not because sometimes he was so tired and he hadn’t slept for days and finally, finally, after days of waiting and days of wandering in his mind, he fell asleep and it was relaxing and it muted his mind in this way that was such a bliss, he had to bite his lip because there was a moan in the back of his throat just thinking about that level of relaxation. Blessed sleep but in public it was sex. For sure, sex. He couldn’t wait to get a girlfriend and go for the real deal.

There was no denying Lydia was hot and desirable in a very carnal, very sexual way. It was, well, visible. Stiles didn’t need to make an argument to convince himself that when he closed his eyes he could picture himself kissing her, touching her face, moving her hair away from her face. He could be gentle, that would probably be nice. It was a nice imagery, kinda pleasant to think about, kinda comfortable, kinda distracting because then he liked to picture himself going on a date with Lydia, maybe she’d like to hold hands? Probably not. He never saw her holding hands with Jackson but they weren’t really the sort of couple to hold hands and what was Jackson doing in Stiles’ attempt of a wet dream. Fuck. No, not in that way, goddamnit.

By the time Stiles actually got a girlfriend, he had tried all the approaches. All of them.

Every. Single. One. Of them.

He thought about Lydia, he thought about other girls, he thought about other guys, he thought about both together.  Because maybe? Maybe he had been thinking about it all wrong? Was it a matter of attraction? Was it a matter of fantasizing wrong? Maybe he should try another approach and so he did.

He thought about kissing Lydia all gentle while holding her face with both his hands and caressing her cheek with his thumb and he thought about kissing her with desperation and passion, crushing his lips against hers, holding her hips and pulling her body against his own, moving his lips down her neck and leaving hickeys down her chin and down her neck, sucking bruises down her shoulder, pulling her clothes out of the way and he thought about Peter doing that to him because it turned out Peter Hale made his dick twitch, who would’ve guessed. He thought about pushing Peter down and holding his dick in front of Peter’s lips, waiting for Peter to suck but that bastard would just tease and tease with his tongue, without even touching Stiles anywhere else, just the small barely there licks on the head of his dick. Of course, Peter would be a jerk even in his fantasies.

It had been a surprise when Lydia or Peter became Lydia and Peter in his fantasies and Stiles had never been so glad that no matter the supernatural threat, no one ever ventured inside his mind again because, imagine you, if they had to use a powerful, ancient technique on him, to save him from the dark grasp of a terrible trickster and bam! They run into the wet dream aisle of Stiles’ mind where he explores what can or cannot make his dick respond and will you look at that, on Thursday Stiles tried to jerk off to the idea of Lydia sitting on his face while Peter fingered him so slowly Stiles cried. It didn’t work but, somehow, Stiles had a feeling his pack wouldn’t look past the sexual imagery. He couldn’t blame them because it was hot and, for all that it left him spent and a bit bored when he came, he still thought, after he was done, that the scene was hot. So, what? He could appreciate the aesthetics.

Confirmation of what he already had guessed came with Malia.

At first, he thought it was the possession and the drugs because, well, it’s not like he had full access to his mind and body and it’s only natural to think you aren’t feeling everything to the full extent of how it would feel if you did have your body back in a situation when you aren’t possessed and drugged. Turns out it wasn’t that.

Stiles had no problem with the concept of sex, he had no problem talking about it and joking about it, trying it out, exploring it. He had no problem at all with sex but.

It was boring.

It was a lot of effort and a lot of uncomfortable touching and yes, it was always uncomfortable and it didn’t get better and he did try to make it get better. All in all, it was…just…that. And it wasn’t at all as it had been advertised and he wasn’t getting his money back because well, he didn’t actually pay for it but he felt kinda tricked. This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to be so the mind-blowing orgasm? The forgetting how to talk? All the porn promises? Boy, let me tell you, they are just not coming.

In the end, that was fine. Disappointing, but fine. All it took was a few very awkward conversations which Stiles was a pro at having because he’s been having all the awkward conversations since he learned how to talk. It was a side effect of brain static, sometimes you get sidetracked and sometimes your brain lose signal and you come back to the conversation with a little lag, but that’s fine, it’s all good. He talked to Malia, Malia didn’t get it. They tried again. They tried it rough, it was…an experience. It didn’t work for either of them because it was boring and, sometimes, when people get bored, they talk and, sometimes, when people talk during sex, other people get out of the mood, geez, it’s not that big of a deal, Stiles said he was sorry.

By the time Malia and he broke up, Stiles had a pretty good idea of what turned him on and what didn’t even if the payoff was kinda vague, kinda limited, kinda special edition sort of rare. He knew he was really into people with that evil twinkle in their eyes, but not full blown evil, no, more like Lydia, 80% evil in a bad day. It wasn’t that he liked to be pushed around or being told to get on his knees, well, a bit, maybe sometimes, the idea wasn’t unpleasant, but he liked to push and grab and have more than a wet noodle just waiting for him when he did that. He wasn’t completely into being the wet noodle either, so a middle ground would be the place to be and half evil seemed to be his thing? So, the objects of his fantasies went back to being Lydia. And Peter. And more often than not, Lydia and Peter because yeah, really the evil twinkle wasn’t full blown evil even if Peter really tried to get there. On the other hand, Theo, for example, who seemed to had a hard on for Stiles didn’t do a thing to get Stiles’ dick interested which led Stiles down the path of is it men, is it older men, is it werewolves, could it be Scott but in the end things stayed as they were and the idea of digging his fingers into Lydia’s hips while sucking on Peter’s cock and having them kiss on top of him was hot enough to make him cum while changing one of those people for someone else just didn’t do it for him.

Sometimes, it was frustrating because Stiles enjoyed dating Malia. He enjoyed the cuddling and the hanging out, having someone to spending time, share his thoughts and time in this way that was similar but different than the way he shared it with Scott. He missed having a girlfriend. He would be down for it and ready to go, except…

He didn’t really care to have sex.

Sure, he had plenty of wanking material and, as soon as life in Beacon Hills gave him enough time to explore and question his preferences, he went for it enough to know what he liked and what he didn’t, but he didn’t really care for going from theory to practice. It was difficult to getting that point across and he was pretty sure Scott didn’t get it because that sympathetic smile and nod when Stiles tried to explain how things ended with Malia didn’t really speak of someone who _got it_. Not being compatible in bed could mean so many things and sure Stiles and Malia had a lot in common, they were great friends now, they just weren’t, you know, great in bed, so maybe someone else would be, right, buddy? Yeaaah... right.

It was an odd thing to tell people: “Sometimes, picturing the right people doing the right thing makes me get there but mostly I don’t really care for it, do you feel me?” It turned out they didn’t because it turned out all that amazement was not an exaggeration and everyone was hurrying to get their pants off because it felt that great so, hey, Stiles just didn’t check a box that a lot of his friends seemed to check. Another one. He spent a couple months entertaining the theory that his friends’ libido was connected to the fact they were all supernatural beings and maybe he could defend a thesis on it, he knew, he knew there was no way he could actually defend a thesis on it, and he didn’t get why people were so bothered by that detail instead of focusing on the very real possibility that humans without powers and super healing and all that, maybe, just weren’t made for all that sex and name forgetting orgasms. Except later he found out that, yeah, a lot of them seem to be and it was totally him, who knew.

It made dating difficult because it made Stiles weird. Weider, if he was being honest. He couldn’t exactly explain why he had to go off with his very restrict, a very non-inclusive group of friends to do very secretive, non-inclusive things, that ended up in sweaty, torn clothes and lots of bruises and scratches. Not a lot of people was willing to put up with that and his group of in the known friends and acquaintances wasn’t exactly large.

So, he had Lydia and Lydia he pursued.

It didn’t work out.

That was probably an exaggeration on his side, but things more or less went from friends to friends who tried making out to friends who pretended they never tried making out which usually meant things didn’t work out, so Stiles decided it was better to keep his friendship with Lydia as it was and leave the whole sexual-but-not-really side of things to that section of his mind he visited when he grew frustrated or curious or when he just wanted to try to see if picturing something new or trying out something new like those hellish nipple clamps he ordered two weeks ago in an impulse that came out of nowhere would lead somewhere else. As long as banshees didn’t develop mind-reading powers, everything was fine.

Of all the people who did the walked of shame through Stiles’ mind, of all the naked bodies he imagined and all the people he wondered if he could-would-wanted to date, he never really entertained the idea of dating Peter. Peter was that guy who showed up in his mind and did filthy things, usually in a very skilled way because Stiles knew how to pick his porn and if he was entertaining a sexual scenario, his partners and himself were all going to bypass the awkwardness or they were all starting over under the director’s order, sorry not sorry but he made the rules, folks. Anyway, Peter showed up for the sex and he didn’t really stay for the cuddling. Usually, because Stiles wasn’t comfortable with the idea of cuddling with someone who kept turning on them and really, who would be comfortable sleeping with Peter? Not having sex with him, but actually sleeping with the guy.

No one – and Stiles meant actually _no one_ – could blame him for being surprised when Peter asked him out on a date. After everything that happened in Beacon Hills, after finally getting away, Peter Hale, former lunatic, just standing there and asking if Stiles would like to grab a coffee was not really, it was not…it was wrong. All those years back when Peter said he liked Stiles, Stiles had assumed it meant I like you, therefore, I won’t murder you and if I ever have to kill you, I’ll give you the courtesy of a fast death instead of a slow or a particularly gory one because, you know, I like you and not that Peter actually _like_ liked him. Also, Stiles dated his daughter which would make things awkward if he could make that argument without that, in turn, not making things awkward on its own because everyone else in that family was either dead, on the run or trying to kill some other relative.

It was so shocking, Stiles blurted out “Yeah, sure.” before he could fully process the implications of that request or all the questions involving Peter’s presence in D.C.

“Are you stalking me?” he asked when Peter held out his phone for Stiles to add his number.

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes in that very Hale way that was probably a copyrighted way to say one thought everyone else in the room was an idiot. Stiles hesitated and then finally took the phone.

He could add a fake number but was it even going to be a date? Maybe Peter just wanted to know if the whole pack moved here or if he was the one being stalked. How did he even escape Eichen anyway and was he alone? Did he have a pack? Was Stiles trespassing? Stiles added his number because, if nothing else, he should catch up on werewolf protocol. Coffee was coffee and worst case scenario, he could scare Peter off with the no hands, no dick thing that was likely to happen when the awkwardness settled in and wasn’t Stiles ten steps ahead of all the other runners in this race.

Except there was a huge difference between using Peter’s body and a little of his personality as jerking off fodder and actually going out with the person, getting coffee with Peter and maybe finding out that personality wasn’t hot, or maybe finding out that that body would have to do it with a gag from now on because Stiles wouldn’t put up with an annoying jerk in his mind unless that was an actual turn on. Anyway, he had no idea if he wanted to even find out how Peter looked under his clothes. He didn’t even get as far as the whole contrasting and comparing with Lydia; he had no reason to think he would be interested in doing it with Peter. It was the fact it was Peter, it was the fact he was an outsider, a stranger who wasn’t enough of a stranger and that Stiles didn’t know what Peter was doing here or how he got here or what he was up to that had Stiles nervous.

Whatever. Coffee was coffee.

It wasn’t like Stiles thought about everyone he knew or even about some scenarios of choice every day in the shower or something. Sometimes he was in the mood to touch himself and it was nice to picture a specific situation. Sometimes it was nice to play a video or read a story, it depended on the mood, it depended on the day, whatever strike his fancy. Sometimes he’d spend the afternoon browsing a virtual sex shop and sending Scott preposterous items with questions if they would still be friends if Stiles gifted him and his chosen one a particular item as a wedding gift. Mostly it went on ignored, but now and then Scott would reply with a very dramatic all caps and exclamation points “NO!!!”. Sometimes, there was a toy that made Stiles curious enough that he’d buy it and when it arrived, he would try it. Sometimes it would arrive and it would sit in its box for weeks before Stiles would feel like trying it. Truth be told, he wasn’t as kinky as his bed table drawer would lead someone to believe.

The point was that, apart from happenstance, sex was of little to no importance in his life. It didn’t happen to him, he didn’t think about it and so what? He didn’t cry himself to sleep at night over not having white tea in his apartment, for example. He didn’t even drink white tea, so usually it didn’t matter and why would it unless he felt like drinking white tea which he didn’t even really like and he didn’t get why Lydia made a point of buying for him that one time, but he accepted it and whenever Lydia would come to visit, he could get her that very specific tea, whatever, he was a good friend.

The issue now was the possibility of Peter.

Because it was _Peter_.

He texted Peter asking if there was a pack here. He didn’t expect a reply, but he got one anyway. Peter told he it was just him and Derek. Sometimes Braeden, but didn’t Stiles know that already. It surprised Stiles and he texted Malia who befriended Braeden after the whole Desert Wolf ordeal. She wanted to know what he got involved in that he needed Braeden and when should Malia herself arrive, seriously, she was studying hard and Stiles was being distracting. He assured her that it was fine, just curiosity and if he ever was in trouble, he expected her to at least check it was really him sending the messages, didn’t they go through this lesson before he moved away.

It was amusing, if not freaky that he got scolded by Peter about it two days later.

“I asked you out for coffee. There was absolutely no reason for you to get my daughter involved,” Peter greeted him when they met.

“You’re lucky she isn’t down here chaperoning the whole thing,” Stiles replied.

They ordered coffee, chose a table from where they could see the entrance and they talked avoiding names because even if Peter could hear better than Stiles himself could, it didn’t hurt to avoid random people knowing people with their descriptions were connected to certain names. It was a surprisingly pleasant afternoon and Peter didn’t try to touch Stiles or sit too close. It was nice.

Peter told him he moved here because of his nephew and Stiles knew who he meant and it was obvious then how he got himself out of Eichen House. On one hand, Stiles wanted to lecture Derek because come on, that was too much heart, why would he even do that, but on the other, he was glad someone went back to save Peter from that hellish place. Stiles had been there, had watched the show and would burn the t-shirt he got if he could just forget the experience.

Stiles told him he just felt like moving away and he was sure Peter understood that by moving away he meant ran as fast and as far as he could under the excuse of going somewhere to study. Stiles felt too close to his breaking point to stay home and his father was mourning his mother again. They were all too broken to stay the same. He didn’t say all that because that would cross into therapy territory and wasn’t he trusting now, but it felt weirdly comfortable to spend the afternoon with Peter. They had a lot in common, more than Stiles expected.

Stiles asked if Peter was free for another coffee on the next Saturday. He wasn’t, but they could meet on Sunday.

Stiles noticed Peter tensed up whenever someone touched him and sure it probably wasn't the same situation as Stiles because Stiles himself wasn't broken but Peter was and Stiles hadn't been traumatized into being scared of human contact, but that could work for them. Peter didn't want that sort of intimacy and Stiles didn't care for it.

And it was easy to be with Peter.

Oddly so. Surprisingly so.

It weirded Stiles out to the point he had to talk to someone about it but he knew all his friends would be unhelpful. He could hear them before even asking for their advice. He knew Lydia would say it was obvious he’d feel comfortable with someone carrying as much trauma as Peter, it was natural and would he look for a therapist already, and he knew Scott would be a little concerned and would ask if he was sure but would tell him to go for it, man, whatever makes you happy, and BTW so happy to see you working on those trust issues, yeah Stiles could feel Scott’s judgement all the way across the country. He knew Malia would shrug it off but she was the only one that was likely to actually get protective and threaten Peter over this; she was territorial like that and sometimes, Stiles was surprised she didn’t piss on him when he wasn’t watching. None of them would make it any less strange that Stiles was feeling at home having coffees with Peter and then having dinners with Peter and talking with Peter and having an opinion on what Peter should be buying for Braeden’s birthday because Peter was texting him while shopping and Stiles was bored and this was the sort of people they were and the sort of thing they did together now.

Weeks went by with an unexpected easiness before anything changed. Stiles was of the opinion nothing would have changed at all if they lived in a more peaceful world but they didn’t so, there they went because out of the blue, Peter cancelled their dinner plans for the night and explained it as a family emergency which Stiles had learned long ago to understand as a terrible thing. Since Derek was fine and Malia was fine, Stiles checked, there was only Cora and Stiles offered to see Peter off at the airport. Peter seemed relieved to see Stiles there and he chose to demonstrate it by kissing Stiles goodbye and Stiles would have called him a sap because it was a goodbye kiss at the airport and considering how hunters or some monster were probably involved, it was a true goodbye kiss, so Peter went beyond acceptable cliché for their only actual kiss and Stiles couldn’t even complain to him given that the guy was on a plane with his phone turned off. What the hell.

Anyway, the kiss itself was pretty muted. There were no fireworks, not on Stiles’ end, but he didn’t hate it. The fact Peter could die played a pretty big part on it, probably, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t go home to wet dream his way into Peter’s pants so he was pretty confident the kiss didn’t really do anything extra for him. He liked Peter which was a sentence he never expected his brain to put together a couple years before now, but he did, he had accepted that and was totally over the fact some murders happened, some backstabbing happened, he just wasn’t all that interested to make the party in his mind become a reality.

He asked Lydia about it. Lydia was of the opinion Stiles got himself a boyfriend. Stiles was of the opinion Lydia had too many opinions which she agreed but according to her didn’t mean she was wrong about Stiles’ situation. Sadly, it was true and Stiles wasn’t sure if he should have the sex talk with Peter or not.

The Peter on Stiles' head who fucked a Stiles who was not quite him and a Lydia who didn't really exist was very different from the Peter Stiles was dating. Stiles didn't want them to be the same person, he didn't want the experiences his imaginary Peter provided for him. It was fine as things were with him not getting Peter on all fours and not being fingered and not having Lydia watching anything other than the occasional Netflix show that they commented through text because that was a thing they got used to doing.

Stiles considered having A Serious Talk with Peter through text but, considering his possible, not sure, maybe not boyfriend could be in the middle of a fight with Latin American hunters, he decided to postpone it until he had better service and was back home. That’s was how Stiles ended up following Peter into his apartment, not for the first time, he had to say, which was not something he expected to happen and was Peter taking meds because that was a lot of trust right there, letting Stiles into his apartment, some sorta therapy was definitely taking place.

Anyway, he followed Peter inside because he was a good possible boyfriend and he went to welcome Peter home, waiting by the door like a puppy and all that, with a “welcome home, sorry the airport was too crowded and too far away” sign so that he could say “I didn’t mind the kiss,” when he was barely two steps in.

Peter closed the door, put his suitcase by the door and frowned. Stiles stood there like an idiot because he had had enough time to have this conversation in his head way too many times and he just wanted to get it out of the way as soon as he could. He was nervous, he probably reeked of anxiety.

“That’s good.”

“No, I mean it was fine. I don’t mind the kissing and cuddling,” he waved his hand and hoped that got his point across for him. “It’s just…it’s not my thing. The issue is that it always leads to expectations and those expectations are _really_ not my thing.”

Peter waited and Stiles took a moment to wait, too, because this was it, he didn’t expect to need clarifications. No, that was a lie, he actually expected to need to go into full essay mode, but he was waiting for some questions first.

“I mean sex,” he clarified.

“I understood,” Peter nodded and finally moved, walking past Stiles to take his shoes off.

Stiles turned around to keep watching Peter because this was the sort of important conversation you usually keep eye contact, wow so rude, Peter.

“I tried it and I suppose I could be willing to have sex with someone again, at some point, if I really felt that strongly about the person, but as it is, I’m happy with keeping things very theoretical,” Stiles told Peter following him into the living room. “Not that I don’t like you, I do. I just don’t feel like taking you to bed in that way. At least, not right now.”

He was rambling, he knew it, he was nervous oh god, he needed to be stopped. This was not how this conversation had smoothly gone in his head.

“Stiles,” Peter interrupted. “This is fine. What we have is a good thing for me,” he paused and turned around to look at Stiles. “Is it good for you?”

Stiles took a moment to consider it.

“Yeah, I think I like it. I like you.”

“Then it’s fine. I like you too,” he said and smiled. “We go on from here.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading it!!
> 
> thank you koko and madelyn for inspiring me to write it and a then an extra one for koko for holding my hand through it.
> 
> the tittle is inspired by the song too much too often by phantom planet.


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